Wildflowers and Weddings
by asphaltcowgrrl
Summary: Wes and Travis finally tie the knot while dealing with an added surprise. Part four of the Flowers in the Garden series following Buttercups and Babies, Violets and Doting Daddies, and Poinsettias and Presents.
1. Chapter 1

"_Longed for him. Got him. Shit." ― Margaret Atwood_

January – Date undetermined

"Any questions or concerns before we stop for the evening?" Dr. Ryan looked around the small group of people surrounding her, smiling. They'd all come a long way since their first days in this little therapy group. Clyde and Rozelle were in love again. Mr. and Mrs. Dumont had weathered many years together and now would weather many more. Peter and Dakota, well, she'd never quite figured out why they were there in the first place – they were sappy and silly, but they'd had a sound foundation from the very beginning. Her eyes landed on the only same-sex couple in the group and stopped roaming.

Wes and Travis, on the other hand, were another story completely. Having been sent into therapy by their captain in a last ditch attempt to save their partnership, they had come farther than any other couple she was currently working with. Quite possibly farther than any other couple ever. On their first day, they were barely talking to each other. Now? Now they were not just a couple but parents as well. It still blew her mind when she thought about it. Wes and Travis and Violet… and it was working. Working well at that.

"I have a question," Dakota said from her left.

"Yes, Dakota, go on." Because Dakota always had a question or a comment or something that needed saying every session.

"I would love to know when and where Wes got that lovely little band he's wearing on his left hand."

All eyes turned to the blond detective and he surreptitiously hid the hand in question in his pocket. Travis noticed the attempt and grinned, taking his partner's right hand into his own. "I asked Wes to marry me," he said bluntly.

Clyde's eyes widened. She didn't really think he had anything against same-sex marriage, but he had a bit of an old-fashioned streak that he couldn't hide. Before he could voice his opinion, his wife cut him off. "And he said yes, right?"

Travis' grin broadened, stretching from ear to ear. "Yeah, he did."

Wes was making a valiant attempt to not look at _anyone_ right then. It made her wonder what he was hiding. "Congratulations," she offered, trying to take the heat off the couple.

"Thanks, Dr. Ryan," Travis said.

"Yeah, thanks," Wes agreed. "Can we go now?"

"Noooooo," Dakota squealed. "I mean, when did you propose, Travis? Have you set a date? I need DETAILS boys! Do you need any help planning?"

Wes laughed. "Uh, he proposed after Violet's big day. And no, we haven't set a date yet."

"Why not?" Rozelle had been drug into the conversation fully now. "That's the first thing you have to do after you get that yes. Besides, Violet's birthday was in November. It's the middle of January, Wes!"

Shooting Travis a panicked look, Wes fumbled for an answer. "Well, he kind of took me by surprise and…"

"And we have other things that are more important to take care of, first," Travis said, stepping in to save him. "That's going to have to be good enough for now, okay ladies?"

"Okay," Dakota and Rozelle murmured together, reluctant at best. Mrs. Dumont nodded her acknowledgement.

"And Dakota, this does not mean you pump the two of us for information while watching Baby Vi either, got it?" Travis gave her a long, hard look to make sure she got his point.

She frowned, but nodded anyway. "Got it."

"Good. C'mon baby, we need to go get our baby from Mrs. Schaeffer before there's another incident."

Grinning, Wes stood, wobbled, and sat back down. "One minute, Trav."

Travis stood beside Wes, rubbing his shoulder quietly. "Take your time."

"Wes, are you okay?" Dr. Ryan peered at him, looking closely at his paler than usual countenance.

"Fine, Dr. Ryan," he assured her. "Just getting over a cold and the lingering congestion has been making me a bit unsteady."

She nodded, understanding. "Okay, let me know if you need anything. The rest of you, session is dismissed."

Travis leaned down, kissing Wes' cheek before whispering in his ear, "Nice save, baby."

"Thanks," he grinned. "I wasn't sure if any of them would buy it, but I think they did. Help me up?"

A strong dark hand reached out giving the requested help. "Always, Wes."

They were the last to leave the room used for the group therapy sessions for the first time in a long time. Before Violet, they'd take off like bats out of hell just to get away from the other members – and each other. During Wes' pregnancy, however, things had begun to change. They grew closer, stuck by each other, and learned how to be friends again. Of course, they were still usually the first ones out the door, chasing Wes' cravings, morning sickness, and anything else his body decided to throw at him. Tonight, however, the return of Wes' morning sickness coupled with that very real cold, had them lingering, waiting for the blond to regain his sea legs.

Wes allowed Travis to haul him to his feet, refraining from remembering just how much help he was going to be needing again in a few months. At least he didn't have to pretend that he didn't love Travis any longer. That alone would make asking for – and accepting – help easier.

"I worry about Dakota," he said as they left the building. "Do you think she's figured it out yet?"

Travis shook his head. "I don't think so. She seems to be so focused on Vi and all of her cute antics to pay much attention to us once we've arrived. We're going to have to tell her eventually though."

This he knew was true. Why he was so reluctant to share his good news, he wasn't sure. Part of him was afraid of being labeled – _something_ – because he and Travis still weren't officially anything, even if they were engaged. Another part of him just flat out refused to share the news, wanting to keep it forever between the three of them – him, his man, and their little girl.

"I overheard a couple of girls at the station talking about her second pregnancy," Travis said, holding open the passenger door for Wes.

"I'm afraid to hear where this is going, but go ahead." Wes buckled himself in as Travis secured himself in the driver's seat.

"She said that with her first, it took forever to start showing. Kinda like you," he said, giving his lover a pointed look. Wes winced at the implications of that look. "But with her second, she swore she was showing ten minutes after conception."

"Oh God," Wes moaned. "You could have gone ten pregnancies and not told me that." Of all the things that happened to him and his body while carrying Violet, the weight gain and inability to get back to his pre-baby shape had taken the biggest toll on him. It might be vain, but he missed his washboard abs. He closed his eyes and tried a deep breathing exercise Dr. Ryan had taught him for controlling anxiety. Realizing Travis hadn't started the car yet, he moved his hand and looked at his husband-to-be. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Ten pregnancies? You want that many kids?" Travis' clear, blue eyes were wide.

"Oh for the love of God, Marks, no! I can barely cope with you and Violet now. And when this new one arrives, you're going to have to commit me. But _ten _babies? Plus _you_? Kill me now." He flopped back against the seat's headrest, squeezing his eyes closed again.

Travis' chuckle tickled his ears. "You are so easy, baby. We need to talk to your doctor about getting this issue under control before we wind up with a third. Although…"

"Travis, NO. Please drive," Wes begged.

"I was just thinking," he said, turning the key in the ignition, "that I'd have everything with my Buttercup, my Violet, and my little Pansy growing in your belly… what about Rose and Dahlia, and Daisy and…"

Wes began to sob.

Travis reached across the car's center console and squeezed his knee. "That's just the hormones talking, Wes. It'll be okay."

Wes wasn't so sure.


	2. Chapter 2

_Plans are nothing; planning is everything. – Dwight D. Eisenhower_

February – Date still undetermined

"Maybe we should just elope, it might be easier."

"What?" Wes looked up from the stacks of bridal magazines Dakota had collected since their announcement three weeks prior. Why she kept bringing him magazines full of wedding dresses, he couldn't even guess, even if she had so helpfully marked her favorites. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Travis shrugged, pushing aside a pile of _Modern Wedding_ back issues before sitting on the sofa beside his husband-to-be. "Maybe. I don't know. I _do _know that since Dakota has found out we're engaged, you've been stressing over all of this."

Wes watched him wave a hand over the assorted magazines and other accumulated information on venues, flowers, and cakes that had amassed over recent weeks. It wasn't just Dakota either. Rozelle and the ever amiable Mrs. Dumont had been adding to the piles as well. Travis was right though – this wasn't easy. It was becoming apparent that even though Violet recognized him as _Mama_, it didn't give him a woman's instinct when it came to planning a freaking wedding. His eyes locked on Travis'. "It's too much. How do women do this? I can't keep up with the magazines, the internet, and then there's Violet and work and…"

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, temporarily stalling the flow of words from his mouth. "Women have friends and family to help them out, Wes. You do, too, if you only let them. Those crazy ass women from the therapy group would jump on an opportunity to plan our wedding."

Again, he was right. "I don't know, what if their taste… sucks?"

Travis laughed loudly, drawing Violet out of her bedroom and into the living room. "Whass funny, Dad-eee?"

"Your Mama, baby girl," Travis said, cuddling their little girl. "He's a riot. But I'm serious, Wes. Either ask the girls for some help – and I bet the girls at work would love to give you a hand, too – or say that it's more than you can handle and we can go visit our friend Judge Bentley and no one would ever have to know."

"But they would," he said, looking worriedly at Travis. "Or, at least the therapy girls would when we both suddenly showed up with rings on our fingers. And I think it's safe to assume they would not be happy."

"Maybe not, but it's not their choice, is it?"

Wes shook his head. Sometimes, Travis' self-centered streak came in handy. "No, it's not."

"But I sense a big but coming."

"If you're insinuating –"

"No, I'd never –"

"You'd better not because I'll strangle you with my own two hands, Travis Marks!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I just meant that there was something you weren't telling me."

He tried to hide the smile creeping up on his face, but he was pretty sure it was a pointless effort. "And you say I'm too easy, humph." Wes poked Travis in his side, making his point. "But – and there is one – what if I actually want a wedding? My first marriage failed in an epic fashion. I don't want to start this one out badly."

"First of all, we aren't going to fail. I'm not going to let that happen." Travis scooted closer, trying to reassure his panicked bride. Er, groom. "Second of all, we need to figure out _when_ you want to do this. You're already starting to pooch, baby, everyone's going to realize that there's something more going on than a wedding in the next few weeks."

Looking down at his pooching belly, Wes felt the first wave of tears rushing to the surface. He'd done so much better this time around, knowing what to expect had helped him keep it all in check, but he wasn't sure it'd work tonight. All he had wanted was to get married before the baby came… but now Travis was making a point he hadn't thought about – he couldn't have a real wedding and be six months pregnant, could he? Wasn't that just a little… tacky?

"Hey, what did I say?"

Travis wrapped an arm around Wes' shoulder, pulling him against his side. Violet climbed into his lap, throwing her arms around her Mama's neck, snuggling in. The gentle, reassuring pats coming from his daughter's tiny hands did him in and the tears started to fall. Gathering both of his babies together, Travis held both Wes and Violet as close as he could.

"Wes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

He shook his blond head from side to side, slowly. Turning enough so that his words weren't muffled, Wes said, "Don't be sorry, it's not your fault I did it all wrong."

"Did what all wrong?"

"This. Us, Violet, everything. Aren't you supposed to find someone, fall in love, get married, and then have your babies? I swear I was pregnant before I even knew I loved you, and now look at us."

Travis grinned. "Yeah, look at us, Buttercup. We've got a home of our own, a beautifully obnoxious little girl, another one that's gotta be just as obnoxious on the way. Plus," he kissed the side of his lover's face, "we've got each other and really, who needs anything more?"

Drawing in a shaking breath, Wes dried his face with a shirtsleeve. "You know what? You are right and I forgot about what was really important. I'm sorry, Travis."

He gave Wes another kiss, this one on his trembling lips. "No reason to be sorry. This is what happens when you're raised by _parents_ in that thing called a _nuclear family_. You get these stupid expectations and think that, if you don't do it a certain way, it's not worth it. Growing up like I did? You learn to take things as they come and appreciate it while you can."

Slowly, he nodded, absorbing Travis' words. "How about this? Let's – let's shoot for September. How does that sound? The little one will be a couple months old, I might not still look like a beached whale and…"

"I love your big poochy belly," Travis interjected, not really helping matters any.

Wes glared at him. "And if I can't cope with September, we can push it back."

"Or we can elope," he said again.

"Do you really think eloping is the answer or do you always take the easy way out?"

Travis looked hurt at the accusation. "I'm worried about you, Wes, that's all. I thought that taking some of the stress off you might do you some good, but apparently it only makes me lazy. So, you know what? Deal with it yourself. Just tell me when to be at the altar and I'll see if I can fit it into my schedule."

He stood abruptly, lowering Violet to the carpet at his feet. She turned her big blue eyes on him, silently questioning. Wes listened to him stomp towards and then out the front door, slamming it roughly behind him. When he looked up, he found his daughter's solemn gaze fixed on him.

"Daddy weft," she stated.

Wes sighed. "Yes, pumpkin, he sure did."

"Why?"

Her single word question hit him in the gut. "Because your mama doesn't know when to shut her damn mouth. That's why. C'mon, let's get you ready for bed."

Violet held her arms out to him and he scooped her up, confident he could do this much right.

Violet had been asleep for a good two hours when Travis finally returned. Wes had ensconced himself on the living room couch, praying he'd return, although he hadn't a clue what he would say when he did. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until the creaking of the front door awakened him.

"Travis?" Wes forced himself into a sitting position, scrubbing at his gritty eyes with a fist. "Is that you?"

His husband-to-be landed roughly on the cushion beside him, smelling of cigarettes and alcohol. "Wes, what is happening to us? I swear, I'm not trying to take the easy way out. I just want you to have options, options that aren't going to make you pull all that lovely blond hair out."

Wes sighed, leaning into his lover's side. "You smell," he said, tapping him on the chest. "You're going to have to shower before you climb in bed with me."

Travis half-smiled at the rebuke. "You're changing the subject."

"Only because the smell of cigarettes makes me want to puke," he groaned, covering his mouth. Standing, he took several steps away from the couch, watching Travis from the center of the living room. After a few deep breaths, he nodded idly. "Okay, better. I know – now – that you were only trying to help. I overreacted and badly. I can't seem to help myself."

"Try this – next time you feel like lashing out at me, even if I deserve it, stop and take a breath. It should help."

"As long as you don't reek of nicotine, maybe," he teased.

"Point taken. Note to self: stay out of the damn bars."

"Yeah, and don't go storming off anymore either, okay?" Wes knew he'd gotten involved with a hothead, it was one of the things he could count on with Travis. Not to mention all that stormy temperament translated into one hell of a ride in the bedroom.

"Okay, no promises, but I'll try. Sometimes it's easier to leave than to stand around and say the wrong things."

"Agreed. Now go take a damn shower so I can get some sleep," Wes ordered.

"Aye, aye, captain," he joked, coming in for a quick kiss before heading off to wash himself clean of the ick. "See you under the covers, baby."

Wes couldn't wait.


	3. Chapter 3

_The name we give to something shapes our attitude to it – Katherine Patterson_

March – Six months until the big day

Travis covered his mouth with one hand as Wes struggled with his dress shirt. There wasn't any way it was going to button over the bulge of his twenty-plus week belly but Travis would be damned if he was going to be the one to suggest it.

"Mama," Violet said, interrupting Wes' struggle with his buttons.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He let the tails of his shirt drop from his hands, leaning down to get closer to his daughter's eye level.

"Shirt no fit. Mama's belly biiiiig." She gave her unknown sibling a pat for emphasis.

Wes opened his mouth to reply when Travis' snickering drew his attention. "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you, Marks. This is all your fault, you know." Turning back to their daughter, he said, "No baby, my shirt doesn't fit. Mama needs some new clothes." _And a diet_, he silently added.

"Come on, baby Vi, let's go get your shoes on while your mama decides what she's gonna do." He took their daughter by the hand and led her out of the walk-in closet.

Wes took several deep breaths, slowly blowing them out through his nose, using the tantric breathing methods he'd learned from that yoga program he watched the other night. Opening his eyes, he spotted something he'd forgotten even existed. Travis' one lone dress shirt. Pulling it off the hanger, he slipped it on –and buttoned it. Fist pumping the air, he quickly tucked it into his pants, grinning.

"Oh, I see you found one that fits," Travis said from the doorway to the closet. "Must've been leftover from Vi, huh?"

"Nope," Wes chuckled, grinning at his lover. "It's yours."

From the look on Travis' face, he was stunned. "Mine? I don't even own a nice shirt."

"Yeah you do, remember? When you were trying to be me and you bought that suit to impress everyone?" Watching the truth dawn on him, Wes slapped Travis playfully on the shoulder before pushing past him into the bedroom. "Maybe next time you'll be a bit more sympathetic."

"So, I was thinking," Travis said, mulling over his words carefully before continuing – he'd learned a little something from the earlier incident in the closet. Who knew he was that much bigger than Wes anyway? "How about having a small ceremony at the house? The back yard is plenty big for the few people from work, some family, and of course, the crazy asses from therapy.

Wes blinked up at him, "No church or even a chapel?"

Travis shrugged. "It was just a suggestion, baby. Thought it'd help keep the planning down some."

"It would," he conceded, "but do you have any idea how much yard work I'd have to do to make it presentable?"

"No, I don't, but I do know exactly how much yard work I'd _let _you do. That one's easy: zero. We can hire someone, Wes."

"I don't know, Travis, but I'll think about it, okay?"

"It's all I can ask for. And talk to Dakota about it, too, get her thoughts on it," Travis suggested.

Wes snorted. "As if I get any choice in the matter. She ambushes me every afternoon. And speaking of which, you could stick around and help me fend her off once in a while!"

"Where's the fun in that? You're really cute when you squirm," he teased.

"Yeah," Wes said, voice lowering into a deadly range, "and you're awfully damn cute when you're _begging_."

"Uh, point taken," Travis said, quickly changing the subject. "You hungry?"

As luck would have it, Dakota loved the idea and even had a better one. Apparently, she had a very large, very well maintained backyard that she'd be _more than willing _to loan to the boys. Wes was hesitant, not ever one to take such liberties with friends – not that he'd quite consider Dakota and Peter friends, although they had grown much closer since Violet's arrival. Eventually, Travis began to wear him out.

A week later, the cute couple invited the three of them over for lunch and a look-see. Dakota hadn't been lying either. For Los Angeles, they had what amounted to an exceedingly large lot of land trimmed with green grass and a myriad of colorful flowers and flowering bushes. Wes was in heaven. The lawn was perfectly manicured and every last flower, bush, and tree was perky and pruned expertly.

"Don't let Peter try and convince you that this is his handiwork," Dakota had whispered conspiratorially in his ear the moment Travis and her husband wandered off. "I hired someone after he killed my roses."

They laughed over that for a few minutes before Wes made his final decision. "I think this is perfect, Dakota. You sure you and Peter don't mind?"

"Nope," she said. "Besides, letting you use my yard means I get to help plan your big day."

Wes swore she was cackling as she left his side.

"Now that the wedding planning has taken off," Travis said, dipping a fry in ketchup, "we have another thing to talk about."

Wes looked up from his salad to eye his husband-to-be. "What thing is that?"

"This baby," he said, pointing at Wes' belly with yet another fry.

"Are you going to actually eat your burger sometime or are you content to eat fat and salt only?"

"You're changing the subject – again – and I refuse to let you." Out of spite, he lifted his giant, artery-clogging burger to his mouth and took a giant bite.

"What about this baby do we need to talk about?" Wes was pretty sure he'd gotten everything taken care of so far. He had two plastic totes full of Violet's old baby clothes, plus a third full of boy clothes that Kate had collected from officers in their precinct on the off chance he had a boy this time.

Now there was a thought that worried him – a boy. One that would undoubtedly turn out just like his father. Wes grinned at the thought though. Violet would surely rule the roost, little brother or not. She was _his_ child in that way – you'll pry the authority out of her warm, sleepy fingers, if then.

Dragging his thoughts back to where they needed to be, he continued to check off his mental list – clothes, stockpile of diapers and formula, toddler bed for Violet so the baby could have her crib – everything seemed to be in order. So, what was Travis getting at?

"Travis? What aren't you telling me."

Travis blinked, grin forming on his face. "You don't even know, do you?" When Wes shook his head, he said, "Names! We need to find a name for this little one. I'd really like to know before he's born this time."

"He?"

"Yeah, well, I figured the odds were this one would be a boy." Travis shoved two fries into his mouth, chasing them with a swig of Pepsi.

Wes didn't have the energy to tell him that that was not how statistics worked, but they could argue that one later. "What if you're wrong and this one's a girl?" He already had his suspicions that that was exactly what he was carrying, but he'd kept them to himself.

Travis shrugged, unconcerned. "How could I complain? I mean, Violet's perfect – sweet, adventurous, chatty –"

"Loud, demanding, can pitch a fit with the best of them –"

"That's your daughter you're talking about."

"And she takes after her father a little _too_ much sometimes."

Travis pressed his lips together for a moment, possibly considering a contradiction to his statement. Instead, he got back to the original discussion. "Violet is everything we could have ever asked for, so if we have another girl, I'm good with it."

Wes visibly relaxed. "Not sure if we even need to have this discussion. If we're having a boy, there's only one name you'll even consider, am I right?" The Cheshire Cat like smile beaming back at him said it all. "And if we're having a girl, well, should I just go for the floriculture book?"

"Flori-what?" Travis squinted at him, confused. "Never mind. And you're wrong. I have lots of names to suggest for a boy, other than the obvious."

"Like what?"

"Uhhhh… Forest?"

"Because our daughter is named after a flower, you think our son needs to be Forest? What if we have another girl later – god help me – what will you name her? Bambi?"

"Now you're being ridiculous," Travis observed.

He was, he knew, but he was trying to make a point, too. "Seriously, what would you name your son, if you had one?"

Travis tried for indifference, but failed as his true emotions showed through. "I would love to have him carry my name – either as a first or middle. Even though mine was given to me rather randomly, his wouldn't be."

Wes nodded, thinking that he had a good point. He knew Travis had it in him, but he needed a bit of help getting through to the real reasons behind it. "Travis what then? And don't you dare say 'Wesley' because I am not saddling another child with this god-awful name."

"Aw, but I like your name, baby," Travis soothed. Rubbing a palm against the back of his neck, he thought about the question. "Aaron? Like the great Hank? What about Cole or even Rhett possibly. Those are just off the top of my very gorgeous head. I could do better with a book."

He decided to ignore the last half of what Travis said, knowing it'd take them too far off track. "I could live with any of those. Now, what about a girl?"

The grin on Travis' face worried him. "That's easy, stick with the flower theme. Rose. Dahlia. Fern – wait, a fern's a plant. Uhhh… Daisy. There are lots to choose from."

He'd been afraid that that was exactly where Travis would head if they had another girl. As long as he didn't try to name her something like Pansy or Cholla, he might actually be able to deal with that, too. "Okay, as long as you stay away from embarrassing ones. Iris, Poppy or the like would be much better."

"Huh," Travis muttered, stumped. "So, that means Clover and Bluebell are out then."

Wes made a face. "Clover's not… awful, but Bluebell is so far out that you'd have to visit Maryland to find it again." He got quiet, a long-past conversation with his ex-wife blossoming in his mind. "Bryony."

"Come again?"

"Bryony – it's not exactly a flower, more of a flowering vine, but it has these cute little greenish yellow flowers... Of course, it's _poisonous_, but we're just naming her that and not feeding it –"

Travis was laughing at him now. "So, Bluebell's out but we can name her after a poisonous vine?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" His voice trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"It's okay," Travis said, pulling Wes against him. "I actually like it. Read a book once that had a heroine with the same name. She was a badass bitch."

"Wait. You read a book?" Wes moved smoothly out of the way of Travis retaliation tickle. "I'm kidding, Travis. But you do like it?"

He nodded. "I do. And you know what I like even more? You. So, I think we need to end this discussion and go have some alone time."

"On one condition." Travis raised an eyebrow, waiting on the ultimatum to come. "You clean up dinner since you refused to eat at the table like an actual adult."

"Deal, but only if you put Violet down for me."

He could do that. The switching up of their usual roles made him feel less like a wife and more like a partner. Besides, would it kill Travis to wash a dish now and then? Sighing, Wes collected Violet from the playroom, which was soon to become her bedroom, and changed her into her pajamas.

"Okay, girl, you ready for bed," he asked.

"No." She shook her head in case she hadn't been clear.

"Well, too bad. Mama's tired and Daddy wants some quiet time. Got it?"

She pouted, but nodded her little head. "'kay."

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead and put her back into her crib for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Wizard's Fourth Rule: There is magic in sincere forgiveness; in the forgiveness you give, but more so in the forgiveness you receive." – Terry Goodkind, Temple of the Winds_

May – Four months until the big day

Wes rolled onto his side, uncomfortable. His growing belly had expanded way past where he'd been with Violet at the same point. He'd even made a point to eat better this time through. And yet, he was still huge… with a little over ten weeks still to go.

Something other than his awkward stomach was keeping him awake, however. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something wasn't quite right. Closing his eyes, he tried to think about something else – something neutral so he could grab at least a few hours of sleep. Between the awkwardness of his own body, Travis' contented snoring, and Violet's late night bedside visits, he hadn't been able to get much these days.

He rested a hand on his stomach and slowed his breathing. _Happy thoughts, Mitchell. Happy thoughts._ Violet's face floated in his minds' eye, then Travis' smile. Visions of wildflowers, tied up in neat bouquets, came next, leading naturally to a handsome, dark-skinned man in a tailored suit.

Pain gripped his belly, forcing his eyes to fly open in worry. He rubbed along the underside of his stomach, feeling the unknown child fidgeting restlessly. Reminding himself to breathe, he analyzed the pain that faded as quickly as it had appeared. It was like a contraction, but not quite. Wes stretched, trying to ease the growing pain in his lower back.

A warm hand reached around and cupped his waist. "Baby, you okay? Can't sleep?"

Wes leaned into Travis' strong chest. "Go back to sleep, Trav. I'm –" A second shooting pain hit him, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

"Wes?" Panic laced Travis' voice, something that scared Wes even more than what his body was doing currently.

"Travis, I think I need a doctor," he whispered, clutching his lover's hand to his stomach.

Violet slept soundly, curled up in a hard as hell plastic waiting room chair. Even with as noisy as the emergency room was, she hadn't stirred since they'd arrived. Travis kept an eye on her while he paced fitfully. It'd been over an hour since the ambulance had brought Wes here, he and Violet arriving minutes later. He hadn't been able to get any information on Wes' condition so far and he was starting to get really worried.

"Family of Wes Mitchell," a doctor called from the admitting desk.

"That's me," Travis said, scooping Violet into his arms and rushing to meet the doctor. "How is he?"

"He'll be okay, but he's in a delicate state. He's lucky to have had you with him tonight."

"Don't let him hear you say that, he hates being treated like a porcelain doll just because he's pregnant. And besides, I'm with him _every _night."

The doctor frowned. "Can I be frank with you, Mister…?"

"Marks," Travis supplied. "Travis."

"Mr. Marks, I didn't mean that he was fragile because he was pregnant. His health is what's fragile right now. His blood pressure is elevated as is his heart rate, both of which are dangerous for an expectant parent. Is he under any stress right now?"

Travis tried not to laugh at the absurdity of that question. "Of course he is, he's a pregnant homicide detective with a young child. And we're getting married soon, so I know that can't be helping any."

"All of this stress, coupled with his high blood pressure, has led to preterm labor. We've got it under control for now, but until his blood pressure normalizes and he's out of danger, I'm suggesting indefinite bed rest."

"Oh, he is not going to like that one bit," Travis said.

"If he cares about the child he's carrying, or," he motioned towards the sleeping girl in his arms, "the one he already has, he'll follow orders. Now, you can go see him, if you'd like. He's in room 1279."

"Thanks, doctor, I appreciate it."

Travis approached the open door carefully, fearing airborne objects and hurled obscenities coming from within. Poking his head in the door, he instead found a very dejected Wes, head in hands, sobbing quietly.

"Baby, you okay?" He placed the still sleeping Violet at the foot of Wes' hospital bed and wrapped his arms around his lover.

"No," he cried, "no, I'm not okay. I'm done with this, Travis. I want to go home, I want to go to bed and sleep forever. I just don't want to do _this _anymore."

He'd looked at his bulging stomach when he'd uttered that last part, causing Travis' heart to land solidly in his stomach. Suddenly, he found himself doubting the future of their relationship. "Wes, you can't give up now, you've only got a few more weeks to go. And then there's the wedding…"

Wes snorted. "Oh, yeah, because that's going to make everything better, right? This damn wedding is what landed me here in the first place."

_Well okay then_, he thought. "Know what, baby? I'm going to take Violet and go home. Call me when they release you and if you still want to come home, I'll come get you."

Gently, he lifted their daughter off her mama's feet and carried her out of the room. He forced himself to not look back, to not say goodbye, because to do either would cause him to give in to his breaking heart. And that shit just wasn't going to happen in front of Wes.

The goddamned doctor decided to keep him overnight. To put it mildly, Wes was not happy. Neither was the baby, from what he could tell. He – or she – hadn't stopped fidgeting all night. An older nurse had patted his belly lovingly, telling him that it was all the excitement of the evening and his anxiety keeping the baby up. He tried to relax, but after Travis had walked out on him, it had been hard to do anything but wish he'd kept his damn fool mouth shut.

"Good morning, Mr. Mitchell," a diminutive young redhead called out, pulling a machine twice her size behind her. "I'm Alice and I'm here to give you a quick ultrasound this morning. Your doctor requested one to check up on the baby after last night so we can assure you that everything is a-ok and send you on your way. Sound good?"

Wes nodded, giving silent permission. After she helped him into position, she had him lift his pajama top enough to fully expose his belly. A squirt of extra-icy gel landed on his bare skin, making him jump.

"Sorry, it's a bit cold, isn't it?" She smiled apologetically. "You have another baby, don't you?"

Again, he nodded. "Yes, she's eighteen months."

The tech smiled at him. "You should be an expert at this then, right?"

"I've never actually had an ultrasound before," he confessed.

"Never? Well then, we're going to have to fix that right this instant!"

Taking the flat paddle into her hand, she smeared it around in the gel on his belly, moving it and poking at his gut until she found what she was looking for. After a few clicks on the keyboard, she turned the machine so he could see the display. What he saw there blew him away.

The baby's profile was so clear he could make out a tiny nose and a little fist pressed to miniature lips. A sad smile crossed his own not so tiny face when he recognized – or assumed he did – Travis' strong jaw in the monitor. He was such an ass last night that he was relatively sure that he'd even passed the Travis Marks level of insensitive asshole.

He sighed, depressed. "I wish Travis could see this."

"Is he here?" She looked around as if she could spot him hiding in a corner. "No? Well, I'm not supposed to do this, but what the hell, right? I mean, he's probably home caring for your other one, right?"

Another stab to the heart. "Yeah, he is."

Nodding happily, she clicked on the keyboard a couple times, moved the paddle, clicked again. She repeated this three or four times, grinning the whole time. Grabbing a small stack of paper off the machine's cart, she said, "Here you go. Now you can share with your man."

Wes looked through what appeared to be pictures of his baby, astounded that such a thing even existed. "These are mine?"

"Yep, sure are. Show them to your honey when he comes to get you. Oh, and your little girl, too. You can tell her she's getting – wait, do you even want to know what you're having?"

His eyes widened in shock. He knew they could do this, but it hadn't ever occurred to him to ask.

"Hell yes we do," Travis said from the doorway.

"Mama!" Violet rushed to the bedside, arms spread wide.

The tech lifted the bundle of energy off the floor and onto the bed beside her mama. "Now, you need to stay really still while I show your daddy something, okay?" Violet nodded eagerly, snuggling into Wes' side. Alice motioned Travis over and positioned him where he'd have the best view. "So, you want to know? Both of you?"

Travis looked at Wes, nodding after he was sure. "Please. Baby Vi was a surprise in more than one way. A little preparation this time around would be nice."

"Are you hoping for one or the other," she asked, moving the paddle around until she'd found what she was looking for on the monitor.

"All I want is to not be pregnant any longer," Wes said.

Travis patted his hand before saying, "I had thought I wanted a boy, but we've been so blessed with this little rascal that I think maybe another baby girl would be the best fit."

"You're in luck then, because that's exactly what you're getting. Congratulations! And now, I must go." She wiped Wes' stomach clean and packed up the machine. "Oh, and your daughter is beautiful. If this little one is even half as adorable, you'll be the luckiest parents on the planet."

"Soooo," Travis said, "another little Violet. How cool is that?"

Wes watched him perch himself on the side of the bed. "Very cool, just so long as this one is a bit more Mitchell than she is Marks. The one we have now has enough mouth for twelve kids."

"Awww, that's our baby gurrrrrl you're talking about." Travis poked him playfully in the arm. "But she does have a habit of mouthing off, doesn't she?"

"No idea where she gets it from either," he deadpanned. "Listen, Travis I –"

Travis stopped him. "Don't. I know, or hope anyway, that you didn't mean any of it. You were scared and tired and stressed. I'm the one who needs to apologize. For not helping and letting you get so overwhelmed with everything."

Wes squeezed his hand tightly. "How about we call it even where fault's concerned? I shouldn't have said any of it, no matter how I was feeling. Okay?"

"Okay, baby. I'm sorry, too."

"So, I've been thinking." Wes caught Travis' gaze, holding it.

"About what?"

"How about we elope?"

"What?" Travis laughed, looking around for the hidden camera. "You can't be serious? Not after all the planning?"

"I am, Trav. I'm going to be riding the bench for the next several weeks, so getting any actual cake tasting or invitation buying done is going to be difficult. Will Judge Bentley come to the house?"

"If I promise him some of my mama's tamales, he might. But what about the wedding you've been planning?"

"Dakota," he corrected. "She's been doing most of the research and planning and arranging. All I've been doing is giving my final approval on things."

"See, this is good. She can continue in your place, and we can still have our wedding in September like we planned."

Wes shook his head. "No, I've had an epiphany. I don't want to wait. I want to be married to you before the baby gets here. We can still have a big party celebrating both the baby and our marriage in September if you'd like. But, the rest? It can't wait."

"Well, when you put it that way, when the hell can we get you home?"


	5. Chapter 5

_I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury. – Groucho Marx_

Late May – the Big Day, a few months early

"Are you sure the doctor said you could get out of bed for this?" Travis was hovering like a bee, flitting from side to side, irritating him like such.

"Yes, Travis, he did. When I told him it was going to be you, me, Violet and the captain, he said it was fine as long as I spent most of the time off my feet. "

"Okay," he said. "But I worry about you, you know."

"I do know, and I love you for it. Now get out so I can get dressed." Wes fixed him with a significant look, hoping he'd get the hint.

"Okay, see you in a few, baby." Travis left, leaving Wes on his own.

As unromantic as it was, he was compelled to wear a pair of black pants with a stretchy front panel sewn into them, thanks to his bulging stomach. Considering he was due in less than eight weeks, he counted himself lucky he was even able to fit into the pants and not forced into something even more humiliating. Like the ratty pair of Bears sweatpants Travis had tormented him with a week ago.

He covered up the embarrassing pants with an overly long dress shirt that he left untucked. Even with the shirt's embroidered tails, he felt he had to be the most untidy groom-to-be ever. At Travis' request, he'd even forgone the tie, something his mother would have fainted over and left him feeling less than comfortable with his attire. But right now? He couldn't give a damn, all he wanted was to be finally, blessedly married and done with it all.

"All right, Mitchell, its D-Day," he told himself.

Travis smiled at his husband-to-be, watching as he approached from the bedroom. "I like this look on you, buttercup. Laid back business casual does a body good." The gleam in his eye was a playful reinforcement to his statement.

"I look like a Holstein, so shut it. But the thought is appreciated." Taking Travis' hand in his, he nodded a greeting to their friend the judge.

"Are we ready," he asked. Eyes moving from the couple before him to Captain Sutton on the side, Violet perched on his hip, he waited for confirmation.

"We're good to go," Travis said.

"Let's begin," Judge Bentley said, lifting his gaze to the small group gathered around him.

Their vows were simple, tailored to the two of them and their tumultuous relationship. Love and respect your partner, in sickness, in health, in and out of insanity. Through long hours and arguments, in spite of children and morning sickness, promises to stick by the other and never go it on their own. It wasn't beautiful or poetic but it sure as hell was appropriate. Wes loved every word of it, even when the barbs were directed squarely at him.

Judge Bentley couldn't ever be accused of not having a sense of humor.

"Do you, Wesley Mitchell, take this man to be your lifelong partner?" Judge Bentley fixed his gaze on the pregnant blond.

"I do," Wes whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

"Considering your circumstances, I think that's the wisest choice, Mitchell," he quipped. "And do you, Travis Marks, take this man to be your lifelong partner as well?"

Travis looked to Wes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I do," he said. "But only because he said so first."

"Just couldn't keep your mouth shut," Wes muttered. "Even though you promised."

"It wouldn't be _our_ wedding if I did, would it?" Travis squeezed his hand, grinning. "I didn't promise either, I said I'd _try_."

"And we were doing so well," Captain Sutton muttered to Violet who looked up at him with wide blue eyes. Her wayward curls bobbed as she nodded enthusiastically, almost dislodging her floral headband.

"I love you, Wes. And I'd have said yes even if you'd said no. Are we done yet?"

Judge Bentley rolled his eyes. "By the power given to me by the great State of California, I pronounce you joined in what shall pass as blissful matrimony… in this household anyway. You may kiss the… blond."

Travis cackled with glee, leaning in and planting a loud smack on Wes' mouth.

"And that, my dear," Captain Sutton said to Violet, "shall go down in history as the most bizarre wedding I've ever attended. You want some cake?"

"Yes!" Violet nodded until she looked like a bobble head doll on a pogo stick.

"Okay then, let's go find some. I think it's in the kitchen." Leaping off Sutton's lap, Violet ran for the kitchen in a flurry of ivory and lavender ruffles.

"I think the captain just snuck off with our child," Wes commented, moving back from Travis.

"Good, then that means I can give you a kiss worthy of my bride. We both know Cap gets a bit weird when we act like a couple." Travis inclined his head towards the kitchen.

"Point. But I'm not your bride, you ass. I'm your _partner,_" he corrected, adjusting Travis' shirt collar so it lay flat.

"And that's how this all started, isn't it?" Captain Sutton had reappeared, a plate of cake in one hand.

Wes beamed. "It was. Where's Violet? Please tell me you didn't leave her alone with the – "

"Oh no," Travis said, covering his mouth with a hand.

Not liking the look on his new husband's face, Wes followed Travis' line of sight until it landed on their daughter. Their daughter who was sporting a frosting mustache.

"I got cake, Mama."

"Good god," Wes moaned, eyeing the smudges of pink, purple, and white frosting that dotted his daughter's exposed skin. "Why me?"

June – approximately 34 weeks

Wes looked at his bare feet, propped on three pillows. The nails on his toes shone a bright purple with a metallic shimmer to them. It was becoming apparent that sometime while he'd slept, Dakota and his daughter had gotten bored.

"Nice toes, buttercup," Travis crooned, strolling into the bedroom. "Or should I call you pansy since that's about the color of your toes?"

He struggled to pull himself into an upright position, grimacing at the pressure it put on his swollen belly. "Shut up, I only just noticed them. I think I got ambushed while I was sleeping."

Travis held out an arm and helped hoist Wes into a sitting position. "Dakota said Violet picked out the color. Aren't you proud?"

"Proud?" Wes squinted at his husband wondering what on earth he was thinking.

"Yeah, her name is Violet and she picked out a color called Violet Sunrise. See how smart she is?"

"Ohhhkay then," Wes said, smiling at how proud Travis was of everything their little girl did or said. "How was work?"

"Eh," he shrugged, parking his rear on the foot of the bed. "Productive. But lonely. You still haven't gotten cleared to come back to work? Even if you're stuck at a desk all day?"

Wes shook his head. "Nope, and to add insult to injury, the doctor told me today that I'm chained to this friggen bed until I give birth."

"What? Why? Is something wrong?" Travis's face crumpled into seriousness, a look that Wes did not like to see on him, ever. It was too unsuitable to reconcile, emotionally speaking.

He sighed. "My blood pressure won't settle down and he's worried that it'll cause complications if I add stress on top of it. Unfortunately, work kind of equals stress for us, doesn't it?"

Travis nodded. "I gotta admit though, it's more stressful without you. I hate this revolving partner thing the captain's got going on while you're out."

"Boys?" Dakota popped her head into the bedroom. "I'm going to head home, if that's okay. Violet's in bed and I put Travis' dinner in the microwave."

"Of course," Travis said, giving her a quick hug. "And thanks for sticking around even though I was so damn late."

Dakota shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it, it's not often you're late and I couldn't leave Wes alone with Violet."

"Tell Peter thanks for letting you stay," Wes added. "I do appreciate it."

"Anytime," she said, waving. "See you tomorrow."

"She's been a lifesaver," Travis said, kicking his shoes off and crawling into bed beside Wes.

"She has been. A chatty, overbearing, sweet and capable lifesaver," Wes clarified. "She's also completed all the planning and acquisition for our September wedding."

Travis chuckled against Wes' back. "Does she know?"

"No," Wes admitted. "And I'm not going to tell her either." He leaned back into Travis' embrace, letting his husband take some of the weight of the world for just a little while.

"Good plan."

Before Wes could respond, Travis was snoring against his shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

"_The main facts in human life are five: birth, food, sleep, love and death." – E. M. Forster_

Still June – approximately 37 weeks

"Detective Marks," Travis announced into his cell phone. "Wes? Baby, wait, slow down. What's wrong?" He could hear Wes' struggle for control through the line.

"I hate to ask but I need you to come home. Soon. Maybe not this minute, but soon, please."

Travis looked at his current partner out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not sure I can. If I give the cap a good reason though, he might take pity on me."

"Dakota and I just got back from my doctor's appointment and he thinks the baby is under too much stress. He wants –" Wes' voice faltered the fear evident in his words. "Travis, he wants an emergency section. Tomorrow."

"Emer – Wes, what does that even mean?" He could feel the panic rising inside him, stirring in his gut and clawing its way upwards.

"It means he wants to force delivery. In other words, an early C-section since there's no other way for her to come out." Wes took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I guess it's common but… but I'm scared" The last two words came out as a whisper.

"Baby, I'll be home as soon as I can. Let me call the cap first."

"Hurry," he begged.

"I will," he promised, unsure if he could come through on it or not.

"Dakota," Travis sighed inwardly, thankful that she hadn't abandoned Wes in his hour of need. "You're still here, thank god."

"Of course I'm still here. Your man isn't in any condition to watch over this little one." She pointed at the child in question who was currently dancing by herself in the living room.

"Good point. He told you everything?"

She nodded. "He did. I've already talked to Peter and he's okay with me bringing Violet home with me tonight so you can get some rest and get Wes to the hospital on time in the morning."

Travis blinked back his surprise. "You talked to Peter? Did Wes…?"

She shook her head. "No, he didn't ask. I knew he wouldn't and that you'd probably be too worried about him to think about what was going to happen with her." Dakota looked down at her hands, adjusting her wedding rings as she said the next part. "I kind of took it upon myself to kidnap your daughter so you didn't have to worry about her."

Travis wrapped his arms around her shoulders, crushing the delicate woman against his chest. "God, I love you right now, you crazy woman."

Pushing Travis off her, she laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment, Travis. I haven't packed her bag yet, I wanted to make sure it was okay with you two first."

"It's definitely okay," he assured her. "I don't know where else she could go, honestly. And she loves you and Uncle Peter. Where's Wes?"

"In your bedroom, having a meltdown." Her look said more than words could convey.

Travis frowned knowing how true that probably was. Wes handled a lot of things with grace, being pregnant wasn't one of them. "Thank you."

He didn't wait for her to respond before going to find his husband. Pushing the bedroom door open, he found Wes curled in a ball on the bed, Travis' pillow hugged to his chest. The sight of his lover so scared and broken tore at him.

"Wes, baby, you okay?" Travis knew it was a stupid question the minute it left his mouth, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. _Why didn't the parenting and pregnancy books prepare you for crap like this?_

Blue eyes lifted from the pillow. Wes shook his head in the negative as best he could without lifting it from the pillow. A small smile touched Travis' lips as he kicked off his shoes. Climbing into bed beside Wes, he cuddled him close.

"That's my pillow you're crying all over," he teased, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.

"I know," Wes whispered. "I needed to believe you were nearby until you really could be."

"I'm here now and I'm not going to leave your side again until I have to. Okay?" He rubbed small circles on his husband's back, giving what comfort he could.

Wes nodded. "Okay. Did the captain give you the go ahead to come home?"

"Yeah," Travis said, snuggling closer and resting a hand on Wes' belly. "He also told me to take at least ten days before coming back. Called it a baby gift."

A tiny smile teased at the corners of Wes' mouth at that. "He's good to us."

"He is, even if we do make him crazy," Travis agreed. "Now, I need to break that promise I just made to you so I can pack Violet's bag for Dakota."

Wes moved back from Travis. "Pack a bag? Why?"

"Shh," Travis said, pulling Wes back against him. "She and Peter have offered to take her for a few days, just until we can get you back home and settled with the new little one."

"I don't like it, but I don't have much choice, do I?" Dusky circles were smudged under his eyes, giving his pitiful look a darker feeling.

"Nope, sure don't, baby." Travis kissed the top of Wes' head, reassuring him that it was the right thing to do. "But she loves Dakota and is comfortable with her. I could have gotten one of my foster moms to take her for a few days, but she doesn't know any of them like she does Dakota and Peter. This is better."

Wes sighed. "Write this on the calendar, but you're right, Marks. Now, go get them on their way so you can come back here and hold me."

Travis kissed his cheek this time, grinning at Wes' admission. "I won't be long, baby. I promise."

It had been an hour since they'd wheeled Wes off and Travis was doing his level best to wear a rut in the waiting room's floor. The first time, when he'd gone into labor with Violet, it hadn't taken nearly this long, had it? But then, Violet was impatient and wouldn't be held back by any man, doctor or not. Travis had to laugh at that because she had certainly received that trait from him. Maybe this baby would show more patience, be more like her other parent. He could hope.

Travis checked his watch again – an hour and fifteen minutes had now passed – and he was beginning to worry. He'd jokingly told Wes that morning that he was going to be the death of him, but now he was slowly beginning to believe it.

"Mr. Marks?" A nurse called to him from the front desk.

"That's me, what do you need?" He prayed that it wasn't anything serious. Wes had done this before without issue, so why would there be trouble now? That nagging reminder that Wes fell into the 'older mother' category popped back into his mind. Shoving it away, he faced the nurse. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course it is," she comforted him. "Just wanted to let you know your husband was out of surgery and that he and your daughter are fine and in recovery."

"Wonderful," he said, resisting the urge to kiss the nurse on the mouth for such good news. "I can go see him now?"

"You may." She shook her head at his enthusiasm, watching him run out of the waiting room and towards the bank of elevators that would take him to the labor and delivery ward.

Travis poked his head into Wes' room, checking to see if he was awake before talking to him. Wes was half watching the television, eyes straying from the screen to the clear plastic crib stationed by his bed. Following his lover's line of sight, he observed his little girl for the first time, amazed how they could produce two children that were physically so very different.

"She's so pale," he whispered, the surprise in his voice raising a chuckle from Wes.

He turned to Travis, nodding. "I know. Vi's not nearly as dark as you are, but she makes Bri look like an albino. Come, sit. I've missed you."

Travis obeyed, coming over and sitting on the edge of Wes' hospital bed where he could see both his love and his baby. "I've missed you too," he admitted, leaning forward for a kiss. "You feel okay?"

"For now. Whatever they gave me is pretty strong." He got quiet for a moment, watching Travis study the baby. "So, what do you think?"

"About what," he asked before suddenly realizing what he meant. "Oh, about _her_. She's perfect, baby, just like Violet and just like you." He placed another kiss on Wes' mouth, wishing momentarily for more.

"Yeah, she kind of is, isn't she?" Pride was evident both on his face and in his words.

And she was. Her flawless skin held just a hint of his darker complexion, giving her the impression of a baby with a tan instead of the caramel latte coloring her sister had. He thought he even spied a few tiny freckles dotting her cheeks here and there. Her eyes were blue, of course, but darker and more like Wes' than his own paler set. Despite having the same kinky, loose curls as Violet, hers was much lighter, showing traces of Wes' golden locks in her own coffee-colored mane. Yeah, it didn't get much more perfect than this.

"So…," Travis began, wondering how he should proceed.

Wes arched a tired brow. "So, what?"

"We talked names," he began.

"We did," Wes confirmed.

"Did we ever come to an actual conclusion?" Travis flicked his gaze back to the possibly nameless child.

Wes hesitated. They had talked, but had Travis ever agreed? He couldn't remember, not with everything that had happened since then. "I'd suggested Bryony, remember? Not sure if that was okay with you or not but… well, I've already started calling her Bri. Stop me now if you don't like it."

"It's perfect. And now that I see her, it fits. Did you ever come up with a middle name? I mean, what actually goes with a poisonous vine?"

Glaring at his partner, Wes said, "I didn't, but in the interest of one of our children having a normal name, I thought Rae would work. It fits with your bizarre obsession for names spawning from nature but isn't nearly as weird as Violet Storm."

Travis traced his bottom lip with his tongue, staring hard at the baby, knowing if he looked at Wes he'd be caught. He had suggested it after all. "I like it. Bryony Rae, my little ray of sunshine, it is."

"So glad you agree, Marks," Wes teased. A yawn escaped him then, startling both men. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"It's all good, Wes," Travis said, moving off the bed and into the recliner seated next to the bed. "You get some sleep and I'll commune with baby girl here in the meantime. Can I hold her while you sleep?"

"You sure can. And if she fusses, the nurse can bring you a bottle, you just have to call and ask."

"Got it." He stood and came to his husband's side. Giving him yet another kiss, but not nearly as many as he'd like to shower him with, he let Wes drift off while he held their newest addition. Things could not get any better than they were right that minute.

Two perfect, beautiful, healthy children. A wonderful husband. They had a nice house with a big yard, decent jobs, and good friends. He couldn't think of a single thing missing from his life. If he died tonight, he would die a happy man. Granted, he'd be so much happier if he didn't die tonight, but that was neither here nor there. He didn't write those stupid ass adages, they just found their own way into his vocabulary over the years. Travis was content, and he could live with that. Live being the operative word here.

Idiotic old proverbs or whatever they were.


	7. Chapter 7

_I think that everyone should get married at least once, so you can see what a silly, outdated institution it is. – Madonna _

September – Age: three months

"Not sure I'm ready for this," Wes confessed as he passed Travis in the hallway.

It'd been a rough three months since Bryony's birth and he was just on the left side of exhausted. He thought that, by now, he'd be able to handle the people milling about him, cooing over how much Violet had grown and fussing over the new little one, but he'd been wrong. Travis was just lucky Peter and Dakota had offered up their back yard or this second wedding wouldn't be happening. Not today anyway.

"Breathe, baby," Travis said, giving him a quick squeeze of support.

"I don't know if I can," he said.

"You'll be fine. Now you'd better get back where you were before Dakota catches us together. You know how she is." Travis gave his husband a peck on the cheek before leaving him alone in the hall.

He was right, however. Dakota had this inane idea that they shouldn't see each other before the ceremony. Wes thought it was ridiculous because they'd already spent the night together and tried to tell her so. Still, she insisted. _Once you get here, that's it, Wesley Mitchell. No more Travis until after the wedding_. He hadn't had the heart to tell her they were already married and that it didn't matter. Sometimes, humoring the woman was easier than the alternative.

"Wes, are you okay?" The concerned feminine voice caught his ear, making him wince.

Damnit, she'd caught him out of the back bedroom. "Yeah, Dakota, I'm fine. Just…"

"Trying to catch a glimpse of your man all dolled up for the wedding?" She gave him a knowing wink. "I can't say I blame you, he's looking awfully handsome in that gorgeous silver suit of his. Looks like it's new."

Wes laughed because _of course_ it was new. Travis Marks didn't own any suits. "Yes, it's new. He bought it just for today." And Wes had helped pick out the sky blue dress shirt and matching silver tie, too.

"Well, you won't be able to take your eyes off him," she promised. "Aside from looking like the tired new mom you are, you are looking really good post-baby, Wes."

He looked down at himself trying to figure out who she was seeing because it couldn't possibly be him. There was a roll of baby fat still clinging to his middle and his eyes were almost as dark as the raccoon he'd chased out of the yard this morning. But Dakota wasn't a judgmental person and he knew she meant what she said and that he should accept the compliment for what it was. "Thank you, Dakota."

"You're welcome, handsome." She gave him a one-armed hug of encouragement. "Just a few more minutes. The chaplain is here and ready, just waiting on a few last minute things and we're ready to go."

_That _made him smile for real. "Again, thank you, Dakota. For everything. Between the planning, the use of your yard, and all the help you've given with both of the girls, I don't know what we would have done without you."

She tried to shrug off his kind words and failed. "I like you two. Have since that first day in therapy. I'm just thrilled to be a part of all this and seeing you both so happy finally. Now, go sit for a few and I'll come back and get you when it's time, okay?"

He nodded, unsure of what would come out of his mouth if he opened it. Taking that as her cue, Dakota departed until it was time to parade him out in front of everyone.

Travis stood at the handmade altar Peter and Clyde had fashioned out of cherry wood and sighed at how ridiculous this all was. Not the wedding ceremony, certainly not that, but the idea that Wes was the one to be walked down the aisle like a woman being handed from her father to her new husband like a used paperback book. He'd told the women that they should walk down to the altar together, but he'd been shot down. By every last one of them. Not even Dr. Ryan had his back on this and he couldn't figure it out. Sure, Wes had given him two children, but had the circumstances been different, it very well could have worked out differently. Would he then be the one waiting in a back room somewhere? He doubted it. The girls loved treating Wes like one of their own.

The music started and Travis came back to the present. Eagerly, he watched the back door for any signs of his husband, needing now more than ever to have him back by his side. When Violet's untamable curls appeared in the entryway, he knew it was finally time.

Wes walked beside Dakota, finding that he was more nervous than he thought he'd be. Violet walked a rambling path before them, sometimes strewing rose petals on the ground, sometimes just digging in the basket she carried and eating them. He'd have stopped her but she was a stubborn child and wasn't likely to stop just because he said so. Besides, judging by the looks on the faces of the attendees, she was a hit, pink petals hanging out of her mouth or not.

Glancing up from Violet, he caught Travis' eyes. The pale blue orbs were even more hauntingly blue under the late afternoon sky. He could feel his heart react in his chest, demanding he get to his lover's side _right this minute_. Taking a deep breath, he checked the impulse to run and maintained a more respectable pace.

"You look amazing," Travis whispered as Wes fell into place beside him. "Even better than you did in the hall where you weren't supposed to be."

He felt his cheeks flush for some unknown reason. "Illicit meetings are always the best, aren't they," he whispered back. "And you don't look all that shabby yourself, Marks."

The chaplain cleared his throat subtly, bringing the boys' attention back to him instead of each other. When he was sure he had their attention, he began.

This second time around, the ceremony – and the vows – were much more traditional and sober. As much as the ceremony Judge Bentley had presided over had fit them perfectly, this ceremony stood on its own merits. The words the chaplain spoke resonated within him – words of love, devotion, and fidelity – reminding him of why he'd chosen this man in the first place, even if they'd taken a very roundabout way of getting to where they were currently.

He snuck a glance at Travis then, seeing the same connections forming within his husband. Violet reached up and took his thumb in her hand, standing witness with her _mama_ on this very important day. If only Bri had been older, she could have been there, too, standing to Travis' side holding his fingers in her tiny hand. Wes was content, however, even without the little one in his arms. Just as Dakota had promised, everything was simply perfect.

Wes retrieved Travis' ring out of his pocket, smiling at how they had almost forgotten to switch the night before. _That_ would have required some explaining, he was sure. They'd only been married a couple months, but even so, it'd felt bizarre and oddly empty not having his ring on for the last few hours. Nothing had felt better than having Travis slip it back into place with a knowing wink at the end. With an equally knowing smile, Wes repeated the words of the chaplain before sliding Travis' ring back where it belonged.

"You may now kiss your partner," the chaplain said, looking from one to the other and smiling.

"C'mere, baby," Travis grinned, pulling Wes close enough to orally assault.

Wes chuckled nervously, still not completely comfortable with such a public display of their love, but allowed Travis to press his mouth against his all the same. The world was crazy if they thought he was going to pass up this opportunity to share in this moment with his love. He balked at the slide of Travis' tongue into his mouth a moment later. Pulling back, he attempted to stop this before it got out of control as it always did, but Travis held him firm, not allowing him to run. Not now, not ever. Wes opened his mouth instead, allowing Travis inside, giving in and thumbing his nose at propriety.

And there was much celebration.

They lay wrapped around each other in bed later that evening, the party having dispersed and ended over an hour ago. Wes rested with his head on Travis' chest, eyelids half closed. It'd taken some time for him to relax and stop worrying about what Violet was getting into or if Bri was going to cry for dinner soon. It went without saying that Wes wasn't used to not having his girls around. He tensed, ready to sit up when Travis' arm tightened around his waist.

"Easy, buttercup," he murmured against his lover's blond locks. "The girls are with Dakota and Peter tonight and the Dumonts tomorrow. Tonight, it's just you and me."

Wes blew out a breath, forcing himself to let it go. "I know, I forgot, I keep forgetting... I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, baby," he said, kissing the top of Wes' head. "It means you're a good parent. I keep listening for them, too. Panicking when I don't hear them."

This admission brought a smile to his face. All the worries he'd had about what kind of a father Travis would be had all but vanished in the days since Violet had been born. He'd gotten lucky. So very, very lucky. "I love you, Marks."

"I love you, too, Mitchell," Travis replied, smiling at the use of his last name. Wes only called him that on two occasions: when he was extremely angry and when he completely, utterly at ease. Call him an optimist, but Travis was prone to believe that Wes was finally happy.

He knew he couldn't possibly be any happier himself.

Travis had gone from a good time Charlie to a stand up man and he had this guy beside him to thank for all of it. Never had he dreamed he'd be in a monogamous, long-term relationship and marriage had been out of the question. Now? Now he had a husband, two wonderful children and a home, a real home. All because of Wes.

Well, Wes _and _a bottle of tequila, but his kids never, _ever_ needed to know about that.


End file.
